Slumber
by SilverCascade
Summary: "Not sleeping for three days straight could take its toll on a boy his age; but Daiya wasn't an average young man, nor was he staying awake for an average reason." Brotherly angst, candyfloss, and a new year. One shot.


**"I've slowed my heartbeat to three beats per minute."  
****― Shane Jones, _Light Boxes_**

* * *

Daiya's eyes screamed like they'd been dampened with petrol and ignited. Not sleeping for three days straight could take its toll on a boy his age; but Daiya wasn't an average young man, nor was he staying awake for an average reason. No, the reason the eyes of the leader of the Crazy Diamonds ached so was his little brother, Mondo. Something hadn't been right since he entered his home three days ago - it was in the air, the unease - and the fact the kid wouldn't move, wouldn't even stir… it was but the start.

The ambulance had taken a half hour to arrive, and by that time he was cursing openly and violently and there were seven broken plates and three shattered mugs on the floor. Mondo lay on the couch, his legs barely reaching the second cushion, deathly still even after all of Daiya's shaking. They ushered in, the paramedics, tentative yet hurrying, and once Daiya calmly told them what had happened - but the calm took _so_ much effort, he was sweating like a thief being arrested for the first time - they picked up the plank of a boy, placed him onto a stretcher, and carted him away. Daiya Oowada did not let his brother out of his sight during the journey. There were no sirens, no blares nor honks nor swerves. Daiya only remembered the quiet.

Why wouldn't he move? This was beyond sleeping, beyond unconsciousness, beyond anything Daiya had seen in his short life; but still, a volcano bubbled under his cheeks at the fact he couldn't perform CPR. Why would someone like him need to know that? He was a biker, not a medic, right?

Sighing, he glanced back up at his brother, four needles winking from under his skin at the arm, each one plugged into a different sac of fluid. He had not awoken, not even stirred once. If it wasn't for the whisper of his shirt against skin as his chest rose and fell, Daiya wouldn't even think his brother was breathing.

The coffee sat bitter and grainy on his lips. Running his tongue over the cracked skin, he sighed. Daiya leaned back in the metal chair, staring at the ceiling, grey, tiled, and dotted in black mould patches. Why wouldn't Mondo wake up? Did _he_ do something to deserve this? This... was this revenge? Some kind of divine retribution? For that one time, where he stabbed Ol' Kaz in the gut and the guy died in hospital. But Ol' Kaz had pulled the knife first, and if he hadn't done it, he'd have - no, it was but an excuse. If this was his punishment, it wasn't fucking fair! His hand smashed into the wall before he knew what he was doing. Plaster crumbled around his fist.

The doctors didn't know what was wrong with the kid. The nurses took a little blood, took a little skin, took a little of everything, it seemed, except of the illness. What was... what was _happening?_ Mondo. His little brother. Was not moving. The doctor, Jenkins or Perkins or something, he'd used another word. The young man did not want to think about that word.

A sharp pain in the back of Daiya's head made him pull out his balled hand and clutch his head. What - ? Did he have this disease too?! What was happening?!

The stench of sterility and cleanliness pierced his nose again and he was back, drooping pompadour and all, and he collapsed into the chair. What the fuck? Fuck it. Fuck. It. If he, Daiya Oowada, had to pay for Ol' Kaz, he would… but not like this! It should be him. Not the kid. The kid hadn't done anything wrong. What kind of messed up sense of justice did the person behind this even have? If he dared show his face, Daiya was going to rip out his spleen before shoving it into the asshole's -

The knock broke his thoughts.

"Come in," he said hoarsely, and rubbed his eyes. They were alight now, burning up.

"I thought you'd like some coffee." The nurse was older than his mother, plain, with large eyes the color of concrete. She handed him the polystyrene cup and sat down beside him, pulling the metal chair forward and pulling a screech from it in the process. "You haven't slept since he came in, have you?"

"How the hell am I supposed to sleep?" he muttered.

"It's a new year. The tide has turned. The day has _changed._" Shaking her head, thick grey curls bouncing, she stood up and headed for the door. She turned to look at him. "You may have missed it, but don't let yourself go as you cling onto hope which may not be there."

"Hey, listen to me -" But she'd left, her echoing footsteps too far along the corridor for Daiya to chase. He couldn't leave Mondo alone. The kid was so pale he was white, la blanca, baby, and a thin sheen of sweat sat on his skin. Daiya sat down, entire body slumped, and blinked against the harsh white light of the hospital room. Sipping blunt, sugarless coffee was the only way to kill time.

* * *

Daiya fell asleep when the clock struck midnight on the sixth day of being confined in the hospital. The coffee had stopped working after day four; the young man had lugged himself forward only on the wheels of determination. There was no way they were getting an inch near Mondo without his hawk-like gaze - now more so physically, as his bloodshot eyes bulged from pallid skin, patchy stubble thick on his chin and jaw - staring them down. They wouldn't dare try anything when he was around. Sure, he was only sixteen, but he could kick a man's head to a pulp if needed be. And he had killed a man before... even if it wasn't intentional.

But when he fell asleep, the hand of the dreams slapped him into darkness. He didn't dream, save for wet coins in his nostrils and redness over his hands when Ol' Kaz's blood dripped between his fingers. But when he looked up, as one often does in a dreamscape where there is no sense of time or place, searching for a rock to hold, it was his kid brother who bled at the seams. Daiya woke, sweating, shaking, a half-yell in his throat. He swallowed it back.

The white light felt like heaven, but more so in the way of awaiting one's final judgement than of being allowed to enter paradise. He stared ahead, blinked, and then realised where he was. Mondo. Wobbling to his feet, he went to his brother's side. But there were only crumpled sheets and empty drips and nothing else.

Blind, undiluted convulsions racked his belly, and though he wanted to vomit, he pulled himself out of the room and headed for the nearest whitecoat. Daiya knew he was a sight to behold; he stank, most likely, and donned a beard resembling rubble. Red, watery eyes were now narrowed in anger, and he walked a leering, shaking walk, which could only be explained by the simultaneous effect of too much and not enough caffeine. The whitecoat he held by the collar, a young spindly man with greasy hair, stuttered.

"Where the fuck is my brother?"

"W-What?" His voice was a squeak; despite the situation, Daiya was embarrassed for him.

"You heard me," he retorted.

"Wh-Who are y-you?"

"Oowada is the family name. My brother, Mondo, is in a - He's not waking up, alright? He's... He's not in his room anymore. Where the hell is he?!"

"Mondo... Oowada..." Wary, the man tried to reach for his clipboard over the lock in which Daiya held him. "I t-think he-he's been moved for some tests."

"What? I fall asleep for two minutes and they -"

"Oh! Are you the fellow who was s-sleeping in Room 5E?"

He put the man down, trying not to let the heat rise to his cheeks; Daiya was aware when his ears turned red, and it was when he was embarrassed. He couldn't let it happen, not now. "Maybe," was all he said.

"Oh. You have b-b-been asleep for two days."

"What?!" He hadn't meant to yell; it was more of a surprise than anything else. "What?!"

"Yes. You have b-been... sleeping."

"And you fuckers think you can just take my brother away when I'm getting some shuteye?"

"I-If you want I can tell you where he is r-right now."

Daiya paused a moment, staring hard at the quivering doctor. If he was lying, a divine intervention would be necessary to save the man's life. "Go ahead."

"Uh..." He tilted his head, flicking through the sheets on his clipboard. Three seconds felt like three years, and he finally said, "Room 43K. It is on the fourth floor. T-The lift is ahead."

Dumbfounded, the young man steadied his voice and his breath before he turned around and headed away. He spoke once. "Thank you. I'm sorry about scaring you like that." The doctor didn't reply. He must've dealt with angry, frightened people all the time.

The ride was long and tiring, but Daiya was allowed a good look at himself in the mirror. All his suspicions were confirmed; he looked like a homeless man who had not eaten for days, which was partly true.

The clock inside the lift was a digital screen, stating the date as the fourth of January. It was late in the evening, and suddenly Daiya wondered what the Diamonds were doing. Sometimes, he wished his parents were at home more often; business trips allowed him freedom, sure, but when something like this happened... he'd rather be unknowing, not finding out until after the calamity was over because the folks didn't want him to worry. He could be in the garage right now, he realised, tinkering with that beauty of a Harley the new kid Suri had picked up. It was his job to give all new rides a once over, and then, after his seal of approval on the quality of the vehicle was stamped, the kids would beam and parade their bikes in the streets. He could be making someone's day right now.

But instead, he was stuck in this gnawing, awful limbo. He was confined to the hospital's walls, unable to be let loose beside his friends, all because his brother had decided now was a great fucking time to acquire an illness. What the hell had the kid done to himself anyway?! How long had he been out before Daiya returned? What if he'd been like that all day, and no-one had noticed because no-one was scheduled to check in? He'd only been gone for two hours! The kid had survived longer before! Fuck. Why did it have to be Mondo?

Daiya's head rested on the mirror when the doors finally slid open. The corridor was yellow, a hideous pastel hue of day-old vomit, and the lights were brighter than inside the rooms. As he yawned, he searched around for the room in which his brother supposedly was; 43I, 43J... 43K. He didn't want to scare away any officials before he could give them a piece of his mind, so he knocked hard on the door before letting himself in. He didn't wait for a reply.

"I swear, whichever one of you decided - " Daiya's words dried up in his throat. The air left his lungs in a sudden rush, and his cheeks grew unbearably hot. Blinking furiously, to keep back the tears just as much as to check this was happening, really happening, Daiya Oowada, the leader of the infamous biker gang the Crazy Diamonds, gave a mighty yell. The lump in his throat somewhat reduced the effect of the puma's roar, but before the boy sitting on the examination table, kicking his legs over the edge absently, knew it, he was being hugged to a familiar body that smelled like musk and home and also really, really bad. Like a bag of old food and sweat mingled into one. But for some reason, Mondo could not let his big brother go.

"Aniki! You're here, finally! Where were you?" There were needles in his arm Daiya didn't see, so focused was he on the blond mop of curling hair and those wide eyes ringed in purple. The child's limbs were _moving_. He was _speaking_. The absence of stillness was so sudden, so much, that Daiya scooped up his brother and hugged him again.

"Thank God, you little bastard," he muttered into a head of hair that smelled like old coconut oil and the earth. "Thank God."

"Let me go, aniki!" The child wriggled free of his grasp, suddenly draining of colour from exertion. A long, tanned arm intervened; the nurse with grey hair pulled back the young man and forced him to sit down.

"Your brother needs to take things slowly. Don't tire him out." Direct were her words, but her wet eyes told another story; if Daiya had known the woman, he would have noticed the glassy streak of a tear along her cheek.

Though he wanted to protest, he knew she was right. "What can I do?"

"Go home and take a shower, son," she said, rolling her eyes. "You stink."

Mondo crinkled his nose. "Yeah, you do."

"You, be quiet," he warned, though the wobble in his voice and the shake in his step said otherwise. "I can't go back yet," he told the nurse. "I'm not ready."

"Then go make yourself useful. This young man here hasn't eaten anything good in days. Ask him what he wants." She hid a smirk.

"Hey, Mondo, what d'you want to eat?"

"I'm right here, you know," pouted the boy. "And I want candyfloss. There's a gross taste in my mouth and it won't go away."

Turning back to the nurse, exasperated, Daiya whispered, "Shit, do you have a cafe here?"

"A cafe that sells candyfloss?" She laughed, the sound of sandpaper against stone. "Son, you're going to need more caffeine, if you think it's possible."

"Help me out. If I give you the money, will you go to the shops and get something for him?" As an afterthought, he added, "Please."

The nurse laughed again. "You're cuckoo if you think I'm leaving my post. I would lose my job. Say, why don't you go? You aren't that afraid of leaving him to me, right?"

"I'm not afraid." Daiya spoke before he realized he had. "I'm... I just want to be here for a little while."

"Sure. But don't leave the little guy waiting for too long. He'll get surly." After showing a small, steady smile, the nurse turned back to the still-pouting Mondo, who now fiddled with the cups and plastic tubes and rustling paper sheets surrounding him. "Don't touch them, son, unless you want to get cooties."

"Cooties aren't real," he said seriously. "Neither is Santa. Also, Buddhism is fake but it's a good fake thing. Aniki told me."

"Well, isn't he a cheerful fellow," she chuckled. "I guess you're old enough to know the truth behind this equipment... it's a secret only big boys are allowed to know, okay?"

Daiya sat back in his chair, metal cold against his back; his white jacket was still in the other room, and his thin t-shirt offered no protection. Still, the cold felt good against his hot skin, and the man exhaled his troubles in a large breath. And when he inhaled, he gagged; his breath stank.

Was it fair to subject the kid to this messy version of himself? Didn't he have an image to uphold? Ah, maybe he just needed a shower and a shave and a shit and he'd feel fine again. A waving cry emanated from his stomach, loud enough to grab the attention of the nurse and his younger brother, whose jaw dropped and eyes sparkled.

"You might want to get yourself something to eat, too," said the nurse, indifferently. The turning of his stomach, so sudden and violent, made him want to vomit and drool at the same time. Damn, he was hungry.

"Look, m'am," he said, keeping his distance. "If I go away for five minutes, will you watch him for me?"

"That's what I've been telling you for the last twenty minutes, son. He's in good hands." As if to illustrate her point, she held up her hands; wrinkled, and dark, they spread an ease in Daiya's chest he couldn't explain. "There are showers in the back of this wing, too. If you're quick, perhaps nobody will notice."

"Thank you."

Daiya smiled, the motion welling droplets in his eyes. He left the room, punching buttons on his phone to order in a shower bag, cash, and some friends. He wouldn't cry in front of the woman, or his brother, but in the shower, where the water hit his face from all directions... who could say he was crying then? Crying wasn't a thing he did often, of course, but he was so damn relieved.

The young man sighed, sliding his hands into his pockets and holding the wobbly smile. It was okay. He'd take his shower, he'd grab Yuuki and Jun and they'd go to the store for him and get some cotton candy. He'd buy himself a soggy meal from the cafeteria and eat the whole thing in three bites whilst wearing the grin of a madman, even though it'd taste like the inside of a well-worn rubber tyre, because, thank Heaven and the angel Gabriel and his bastards of brothers, dammit, Mondo was okay.

If Mondo was okay, then he, too, was okay. The sleep hadn't done a thing, but seeing his brother's nose squish in distaste, and watching those small, sturdy limbs kick out with vigour... that was all he needed to rejuvenate. And, well, some breath mints couldn't hurt either.

Mondo was okay. So Daiya would be just fine.


End file.
